Part 27 (1/2)
”What are the Vietnamese doing?”
”Fighters being prepped at Da Nang, Sir. Looks like they're preparing to sortie their fighters to fly cover over their frigates.”
It doesn't make sense, thought Captain Johnston. Even without the customary backup which the president denied, my carrier battle group is an extremely formidable weapon. While it would be theoretically possible to overwhelm it, it would take far more than what I'm seeing now. And the farther we are from the mainland, the more the sh.o.r.e-based missile threat diminishes. Even if they decided to sortie dozens of aircraft against me, I could still inflict enormous losses on them. My subs alone could very possibly sink everything they currently have on and under the water. What are they doing?
”Prepare all aircraft for combat. When those destroyers close to missile range, I want them to know there's a cloud of stinging insects waiting overhead. When their subs are in range, have the anti-sub helicopters drop sono-buoys on their heads; let 'em know we can dump the whole s.h.i.+thouse on 'em if they so much as open their torpedo doors. Notify all s.h.i.+ps to go to battle stations,” he ordered. ”And tell fleet headquarters what we're seeing here.”
Larimer again found himself cooling his heels in the White House Situation Room with Benedict and the Navy Secretary, having been pulled out of a meeting only to have to wait for the president and his chief of staff to arrive.
”I have the distinct feeling Li's not bluffing,” Larimer said.
”I can't think of any other conclusion that could be drawn,” replied Benedict. ”a.s.suming he has the b.a.l.l.s to do it, how do you think we'll fare?”
”a.s.suming they wait until the destroyers are within optimal range, the Was.h.i.+ngton battle group will be far enough from the coast to mitigate but not eliminate entirely the sh.o.r.e based missile threat. Against two destroyers and two Song cla.s.s subs alone, we would no doubt prevail. But if they sortie dozens of aircraft against us, which it appears they may be preparing to do, we could have our hands full. They'll lose two front line destroyers and probably two front line subs in the process, and that's what troubles me. Why would they sacrifice that and risk war?”
The arrival of the president, his chief of staff and national security advisor, James Langley forestalled any answer to that question.
”Gentlemen,” began the president before he was even seated, ”I was just informed that there has been a battle in the South China Sea which the Chinese apparently lost. I have also been advised that China may be preparing to challenge the 7 Fleet. Mel, would you care to explain what transpired?” he said, more as a challenge than a question.
”It appears that two Chinese frigates fired on the convoy, but scored no hits,” Mr. President. ”The Vietnamese fired at the Chinese frigates and sank both of them,” replied Larimer, providing only a barebones account.
”Do you have any theories as to why the Chinese missed and the Vietnamese did not?” asked the president, well aware that Larimer was playing with him.
”Bad shots, I guess,” answered the SecDef, as Benedict struggled to contain a smile.
”d.a.m.n it, Mel,” the president snapped, ”you can do better than that.”
By sending the 7 Fleet into harms way for purely political reasons and denying any reserves, an unprecedented move, the president had deeply angered not only his Secretary of Defense, but the Secretary of the Navy and for that matter, every military man on the national security team and in the Pentagon. Larimer saw the president as no friend of the military, someone who only showed an interest in those who put their lives on the line when he was in campaign mode or wanted to take credit for something they did.
”Mr. President,” Larimer paused before continuing, ”my understanding is that the Chinese frigates each fired two anti-s.h.i.+p missiles either at the container s.h.i.+p or at the Vietnamese frigates. Both were apparently jammed, decoyed off course, or destroyed by point-defense weapons. The Vietnamese missiles managed to evade whatever countermeasures the Chinese used and two wars.h.i.+ps were sunk. That's about as clear as I can make it,” he said in a manner bordering on condescension.
The president's anger at having been mocked had grown to the point where he briefly considered relieving Larimer on the spot, but to do so would risk a mutiny and quite possibly result in the revelation that it had been he who sent the 7 Fleet into harms way without a reserve. The most galling aspect, in the president's mind, was that he knew d.a.m.n well that Larimer knew he had him where he wanted him.
”OK, Mel, let's cut the c.r.a.p. We both know the 7 Fleet went through the Taiwan Strait when our understanding was that it would move south of Taiwan and that was what drew the destroyers away from the convoy.”
Oh, how brilliant, thought Benedict, how ever did you figure it out?
”Your order, as I recollect, Mr. President, was that the fleet rendezvous with the convoy south of Taiwan. The chance of the convoy surviving an encounter with two frigates and two of the most powerful wars.h.i.+ps in the Chinese Navy, was next to nil. By taking the Taiwan Strait route, the Chinese were forced move their destroyers closer to the coast where they could shadow our battle group, evening the odds considerably in Vietnam's favor and, I might add, saving lives, some of them American.”
”And putting the entire fleet at risk, Mr. Larimer!”
”The 7 Fleet was at no time in Chinese waters,” the Sec Def said, his voice rising, ”It transited the Strait of Taiwan legally, as it has in the past, and it was in no way responsible for the sinking of the Chinese frigates. The only order that has placed our fleet in jeopardy was the one that sent it in there in the first place, with no reserve whatsoever, counter to established procedure and common sense, Mr. President,” the SecDef spat out the words 'Mr. President.'
Benedict thought for a moment that the president was going to leap over the conference table and slug Larimer. His face was red and his fists were so tightly clenched that his knuckles gleamed white. Even his chief of staff worried briefly that it would come to blows. The president had smugly ordered an action that risked American lives for what were clearly political reasons and had been out-maneuvered by Larimer and, he suspected, Benedict. The situation was veering dangerously out of control and regardless of the outcome, he sensed he would somehow come out on the losing end.
The president was now at a total loss, needing to seek advice from a man whom he loathed and belatedly realizing that if the lone carrier battle group he had sent into harms way was sunk, the blame would find its way back to him, despite his efforts to implicate others. That he had taken such advice from his chief of staff, himself abysmally ignorant of anything military, now seemed idiotic at best. Given the low ebb of his presidency, he was finally forced to face the fact that he was totally out of his depth and a military calamity would only highlight that, possibly ending his presidency.
In a move that was as unexpected as it was sudden, the president turned and stormed out of the room followed, after an uncertain interval, by his chief of staff, leaving Larimer and Benedict sitting looking at the National Security Chief and the Navy Secretary. No one spoke for several minutes until Larimer finally said: ”I've got a fleet in jeopardy, a possible war on my hands and a president who's . . . out, and obviously nothing's getting done in here. If he comes back, tell him I'll be in my office in the Pentagon. Oh, and in case he doesn't remember, remind him that's where we defend this nation.”
Jim cracked the door from the loading dock to the hallway. It was empty and the ex-Seals and soldiers quickly made their way to the elevator. One floor down, the doors opened onto an empty bas.e.m.e.nt corridor. According to the map, the door at the end of the corridor led into another where they would find the rooms used as cells.
The soldiers went first as the Seals flattened themselves against the wall, staying out of sight. As expected, two police officers were seated on folding chairs outside of one of the doors lining the right side of the hallway. Startled but not alarmed at seeing the soldiers, the officers stood but made no attempt to reach for their side arms, though one lifted his radio, quickly changing his mind when the Kalashnikovs the soldiers were carrying were abruptly leveled at his chest. Ordered to place their guns and radios on the floor and step back, they had no choice by to comply.
”Keys!” Jim ordered, stepping around the corner with an outstretched palm. The order needed no translation and the guard quickly pulled a ring off his belt, selecting the proper one and handing it to the tall, well-built man now standing before him.
”Room service,” Jim called loudly as he turned the lock, grinning broadly when a familiar face smiled back.
”What took ya so long?” drawled Brett, casting a questioning glance at the two men in green army uniforms.
”Had to borrow a couple of soldiers first,” Jim replied.
”Thought for a second the firing squad had arrived,” Brett said.
The guards, relieved of their radios and side arms, replaced Brett in the cell.
”Ya'll be good now,” Brett said as he closed the door. ”Holly and Ray and Maggie?” he asked anxiously.
”They're all stateside with Richard. Holly had some misadventures along the way, but she's OK, I'll fill you in later. Now we've got to figure a way to get the rest of us back there too.” He turned toward the other Seals. ”You already know George, and that's Radcliff, Rad for short,” he said.
”Well I'll be d.a.m.ned, I didn't know we had Seal reunions in China,” Brett said.
”We've got some dissidents on the dock waiting for us, so let's move it.”
”I a.s.sume that means there's a plan,” said Brett.
”Well, yeah, but it gets a bit sketchy from this point on,” he replied. ”The US Emba.s.sy is where we need to be, but we have to get to Beijing first. We've got a delivery van and a taxi to work with, but the whole d.a.m.n country's under martial law due to some amazing stuff the dissidents have been doing. They're some brave SOB's. They're taking on the whole d.a.m.n Chinese military and doing a h.e.l.l of a job of it!”
”Roadblocks?”
”Some and growing by the hour,” replied Jim. ”Our dissident friends have managed to slow things down with a brilliant idea I'll tell you about later, so we've got a bit of a leg up, but the emba.s.sy's a long way from here and not everyone in it is friendly. For all intents and purposes, the Station Chief's the only friend there we've got. The amba.s.sador would just as soon we drown ourselves, so we may have to storm the place.”
”That don't sound too hard,” said Brett. ”Those State Department types tend to be long on talk and short where it counts.”
”We've gotta get there first, so let's roll.”
”What happens to the soldier-boys?” asked Brett.
”They're coming with us. They've already put their lives on the line and if we leave 'em here, they're as good as dead. If I could, I'd bring everyone of the dissidents along too, but that's just not possible. They're gonna have to hope for a new government sympathetic to what they're trying to achieve. Otherwise, it's gonna be real grim.”
”As soon as we're outta the building, our dissident friends are gonna stage a little fire drill. Some of 'em'll work on getting everyone out of the hospital and the rest of 'em are gonna set enough charges to hopefully bring this house of horrors down.”
”I like it!” said Brett.